


nectarous

by chaosdunk



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood Drinking, Gen, Self-Inflicted Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27223285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaosdunk/pseuds/chaosdunk
Summary: V collapses on the way to Urizen. Nero offers some unconventional help. Human blood is a hell of a drug.
Relationships: Nero & V (Devil May Cry)
Kudos: 31





	nectarous

He’s not going to make it.

Nero helps him limp along as best he can, but V knows this is it. He’s at the end of his rope, strength draining fast from his fragile body, bleeding out with every step. Unless Nero can carry him to where Urizen awaits, he’s going to crumble away into dust.

All it takes is a dip in the Qliphoth roots to lay him low. V stumbles and can’t bring his cane up in time — he crumples to the ground and finds he can not move.

“V, you have to stop! Your body can’t take much more of this.” Nero ducks down and gently sets him upright against a knob in the wall, and he can’t find it in himself to argue. This is the end. He’s come so far, and it still was not enough.

“What’s going on with you, anyway? You’re literally falling apart. I think I’ve got bits of you all over my jacket,” Nero says.

V rubs a hand tiredly over his face, feeling the cracks in his skin. “What’s left of my demonic power is at its limits. I... can no longer hold myself together.”

It galls him to admit it, but there’s no harm in it now. What use is pride to the cast-off dregs of a dying demon? Nero has brought him this far; the least he can do is tell him the truth.

“Demonic power, huh...”

A thoughtful look crosses Nero’s face, and V can see the gears start turning in his mind. V doesn’t know what Nero is planning, but he has a feeling it’s going to be as dangerous and reckless as all his other plans.

“Look, human blood juices up demons, right? That’s what all this Qliphoth shit is about,” Nero says. “What if you take mine?“

“I don’t think...” He trails off. It’s... not entirely implausible. The logic is sound. But he’s a special case — still human in all the painful ways it matters — he might be too incomplete for it to work. Is there even enough of a demon inside him to feed? But a tantalizing voice inside him whispers. What does he have to lose by trying?

He wants to refuse. He _should_ refuse. There are still so many demons in their way, Nero needs to conserve his strength, his half human blood might not be enough to save him — a million arguments bloom in his mind, and as he opens his mouth to voice them—

—Nero, evidently fed up with V’s hesitation, grabs the Red Queen and, with a quick slash, opens up the wrist of his good arm.

“Look. You can either drink from me now or you can let all this blood go to waste. I’ve cut myself either way.”

He shoves his arm in V’s face.

“Your move, asshole.”

The smell hits him like a brick to the face. What’s left of the demon in V calls out to the human in Nero and it _wants_ , keening with such a desperate hunger that it takes V a moment to realize the sound is coming from himself. He can’t help it — he tosses his concerns and the tattered remains of his dignity to the wayside and reaches out, hands shaking, to press himself against the wound.

It’s better than anything he’s ever tasted. It lights up in his mouth, rich and hot, and he never wants this to stop. How could he have ever considered refusing this? It’s incredible. No wonder demons go mad for this.

The world narrows down to only the flood of blood in his mouth and the thud of the heartbeat echoing in his ears. No more exhaustion, no more pain. There’s nothing but that taste and the dizzying rush of power. He could lose himself in this forever.

He laves his tongue against the wound, trying to draw out more, faster, heedless of Nero’s hiss of discomfort. It takes all of what’s left of his willpower to stop himself from worrying at the cut with his teeth.

With every swallow he can feel the strength return to his body. When was the last time he felt so right? Nero jerks against him but V holds him steady, grip vise-tight, nails digging half moons into the skin beneath. The pulse beneath him flutters, and he wants to chase it to the source. Heart, thigh, neck, surely Nero could handle it. He’s already done so much for V — a little more couldn’t hurt. The boy is strong. Willing. Lay him out like a feast and drink until he’s dizzy from it. Split open his bones and dig into the meat of him. V could bury himself in the warm cove of Nero’s throat and feed and feed and _feed_. All he would have to do is reach out and take it.

He wants more. He needs more.

_I need more power._

_No._

V flinches as though burned. No. What? No. He can’t. What the hell is he thinking?

Power always comes at a cost. He is the living proof of that. And this is not a price he is willing to pay.

It’s not enough, nowhere near enough, but he forces himself to break away. A wave of exhaustion washes over him, but he ignores it and tries to regain his composure. He can walk again. He can make it to Urizen. That’s all that matters.

Nero stares at him sidelong, cradling his savaged arm while it slowly stitches itself back together. “Guess you, uh... really needed that, huh?”

V finds he can’t quite meet Nero’s eyes. Shame burns within him, molten in the cracks marring his face. He hasn’t lost control like that in a very long time. “I... apologize. For getting so carried away. I didn’t know I would have such a... strong reaction to your blood.” 

"Look, don't worry about it. It'll take way more than that to put me out of commission." Nero waves his hand dismissively, like he can physically brush off V's concerns. "You feeling any better?"

The concern makes the tension lodged underneath his chest start to uncoil deep within himself. "Yes, I think... I can manage now." 

"We'll get you to Dante and Urizen. I promise." 

He reaches down to help V up, and V can see the skin growing back, pink and new. Not yet whole, but healing. 

Slowly, carefully, V creaks to his feet, unfolding like a delicate bird. He moves with a deliberate, testing care until he's leaning heavily on his cane. Stealing it was the best decision he'd ever made, he decides. He's still frustratingly, agonizingly weak, but he'll make it. When Nero wraps a solid arm around him, just in case, V finds himself leaning into the support.

“Thank you, Nero.”


End file.
